Disbelief (1)

He noted the tits right away. Gods but he loved tits. He loved touching them softly, stroking the silky skin, loved sucking the nipples until they rose tightly in his mouth. He loved squeezing them until his partner screamed, loved tying them tightly until she moaned. Marks from a crop, from a cane, from his hand–it didn’t matter. Big ones, small ones, fake or real, he loved tits. Once again he stared at the woman across the room. Though it was that pair of breasts that had first caught his eye, there was more. He wove through the crowd. A party at Whip was always a crush. He needed to see more than a generous pair of knockers.

Back against the wall, closer to the woman, yet out of sight, he confirmed his suspicions. He could barely believe his eyes. In fact, if he  hadn’t been wearing a mask, he may well have rubbed them to clear them, thinking that the vision across the room was a mirage. He did shake his head, certain that he was mistaken.  Her height was right, the hair color was right, the shape of her head, the faint curl of her bottom lip. Could it really be Amanda?

She wore a corset that lifted her breasts high, each movement a subtle tease that one or the other might just pop free and reveal a perky nipple. Dear gods, she had a pair of amazing tits, (if it really was Amanda, who would have ever known?, he mused) the tautly rounded orbs lifted with every breath. The fishnet stockings covered legs that he’d never seen, always before hidden under dress slacks, never a skirt. Her  hair sluiced down her back, a long ribbon of red. When she turned to speak to a woman beside her, he could see just how long it was. He’d had no idea there was so much of it! Gone was the tight-assed bun, the proper chignon, the tightly woven braid. His fingers itched to grab that long hank of hair, wrap it around his fist, and…but wait. A sudden thought occurred to him, jarring him to re-evaluate.

She could be spoken for. Although her outfit could have put her as either a Top or a bottom, he innately felt that ‘submissive’ was her role. There were signs, subtle though they were;   no crop, no jewelry, no tall boots or wicked heels. Her makeup, while slutty, wasn’t over the top.  She didn’t appear to be looking for anyone, only chatting with the woman who stood beside her. At her ease, as if she’d been here–or some other BDSM club–before. He edged closer.

Thankfully, there was no collar around her pale-skinned throat. Noticing  that made his wicked, black heart beat just a bit faster. Did he dare? She might know him, might suss out his identity. But perhaps if she was involved in play, blindfolded, perhaps then he could keep his identity secret. It was time to search out Duncan, to have him liaise for him, and share any information discovered. His fingers twitched, thinking about touching her. His cock was tingling, half-hard. He wanted–needed- to know everything Dunc could find out-was she alone? Would she play? Was she looking for a Dom? Was she looking for a woman? Gods, he hoped not!  With one last look at her, lost in deep conversation, he turned away to find Duncan.

Perhaps in a short while, he’d be busy with a new submissive. Who also happened to be his boss.


Tsk. You should have known better.

You knew that they were out there. You resisted them for a long while. But the thought of them, oh, it niggled there at the back of your brain.  In the end, you know resistance is futile.

How do they do it? How do they mystify the mind, intrigue you until you can’t help but capitulate? One day you’re running out to do errands and blammo! There it is in your shopping cart.

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Somehow, you came home from the store with them. Did they sneak into your cart? Or did they sneak into your thoughts, controlling you from afar? It’s nefarious how they do this to us, weaseling their way into our homes, wending their way closer, ever closer.

Somehow, they have been placed upon your nightstand. Inching their way to their goal. They are monsterous that way, you know it, yet you still fell under their spell. And it continues.

What could it hurt, you thought, opening the package. This, despite your own rule of never eating in bed, not to mention never having a ‘sugary’ snack after that final toothbrushing, after putting on your face cream, putting the extra blanket on the bed, and plugging in your cell phone.

See? They’ve already begun to disrupt your routine. They are insidious.

You slip one into your mouth. Oh, one sour candy, what could that hurt? A little sugar in the sheets? The thought makes you giggle, doesn’t it? A little slurpy wetness, the tang of sour, the soothing of sweet, and my goodness, a second candy is already slipping between your lips. But all good things must end. It’s late, after all, and an early start to the day tomorrow. Fold down that bag of candy now, push it away. Snap off the light, time to sleep.  You snuggle under your covers, settle your mind. A faint sound tugs you from the edge of sleep. That, and the annoying grit of sugar in your sheets, chaffing your bare skin. You mutter, flip to your back, close your eyes again.

They snap open.

Wait. What was that?

Was it the wind from the semi-opened window fluttering the curtains? But then….you feel a tickle. You feel…something.

You tap your phone, throwing a smidge of light onto the bed. You gasp!


You realize the folly of your choice now.

And you realize something else.

You are fucked.



The Orgasm to End all Orgasms

I was trying to remember when the last time I had an Orgasm was. Yes. I used a capital letter. 😀 It’s been a long, long while, perhaps as long as a month. There was a day that I was thinking about having one, but He suggested (it was not an order, but a very strong suggestion nonetheless) that I take a pass and let my energies go towards healing.

But last night I finally-at LONG last- was ready to give my pussy a workout.

Did you feel an earthquake in the northeast? Because I’m sure I caused one. Whimpering, maybe a bit of yowling, as I came. It was one of those Orgasms where your kneecaps feel like they’ve been blown off, when you lay there, panting and quivering and ‘omg’ing.

Should I show the picture? It’s embarrassing, kinda. But it was a huge orgasm, and I’m kind of an exhibitionist anyway. So if you’re the type to be offended by orgasm splatter, turn away now.

Wait. This is me and you are you. …and you wouldn’t be reading here if you were easily offended, right? *laughs*

And okay, posting this makes me blush just a bit because Master said…well..ahem. Never mind. He enjoys making funny little comments about the amount of come/squirting that happens when I have a ginormous orgasm. So enough babble…here’s photographic proof that after a looooooooooong period of abstinence, this slut will have an explosive response.

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It kind of speaks for itself…which is a good thing really. I’d write more but I have a blanket to wash….





It’s been a hell of a month, February. Totally kicked my ass in the “You Win Sickness” category. One I’d gladly unenroll from, thanks.

I had to cancel a playdate with M because I was pretty close to pneumonia. Not fun screaming in pain when you can’t breathe. . . and when every other breath is coughing up a lung, not so fun for Him, either.

I had to cancel a visit with a sexy blog friend. I wasn’t happy to give this up either, but again, a visitor who coughs her lung out in your living room isn’t the best sort of house guest.

You need to sit down for the next part.

I did not work for close to 60 consecutive hours.

I cancelled clients during the week, and took the afternoon of Saturday, through the Monday holiday totally off. I slept, I rested, I did ZERO housework, leaving everything up to anyone else who would bother to do it.

I didn’t even feel guilty about that; was really too sick to give much of a fuck. And yanno, the damnest thing happened…I started to get better! I’ve been on two rounds of antibiotics, and the second one is clearing up a secondary infection, but now, for the first time in 4 weeks, I feel human.

Safe enough to try to work out some face time with M –I was worried that I’d infect him, which would be terrible. I have a voice, something I didn’t have for a really long stretch. (more than a week–amazing how many people whisper at you when you can’t speak–very amusing)

All that aside, I knew I was getting better when I started having raunchy sex dreams again. For a while there I was SO busy with work, with family, with kids, with STUFF–filling every waking moment with STUFF…that I forgot.

Forgot that I am a slut.

That I’m horny.

That I’ve got some warped and twisted thoughts about sexah and sex and beating and bondage and (phew…I’m, ahem, getting a bit excited writing all of that…!) and for a long while I didn’t feel ANY of that. I was …vanilla wrapped.

But having that down-time gave me the strength to break off that wrapping, in my head at least, and fired up my libido and my imagination. Every spare moment of late, I’ve been writing. Not many spare moments (while I was sick I didn’t even open my computer for most of the time)…but what I have had has gone to writing out some of the dreams I was dreaming, the thoughts that fall into my head while showering, and the plain old sick fuckery that pops into my head at odd moments.

So thanks for hanging in here with me…I feel like one of the few “old-timer bloggers” that’s still keeping on…and I’ve kind of let you, my wonderful readers, down for the last few months. I’ll keep writing, and you c’mon by and see what’s rockin’ around here, k?

And soon, hopefully, I’ll have some time with the Man and REALLY have some kinky shit to tell you all…one can only hope it happens not too long from now, because this slut needs some pain, some orgasms, and some time with my Master’s hands upon my body.

Fat ~ Finale

Yeah yeah, go ahead and tweak me for being a romantic slob. I can take it. 😀   ~nilla~

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

Her work bestie Marcy hovered at the corner of her desk, grasping the edge as if fighting back the urge to help Mae put mementos into the box on the chair.

“I know. But it’s okay. I’m happy. Really happy.”

“Are you sure he didn’t fire you? You’re not lying?”

Her response was a laugh, a sound that came from deep within, causing her impressive cleavage to jiggle under the low-cut top that she wore.

“Something funny happening out here?”

Mr. Chisolm stepped out from his office, as Marcy’s eyes grew huge. Shit, she thought, I hope he didn’t hear that. Yet his eyes, indeed his full attention, remained focused on Mae.

“Nope, just packing up the last of my things.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Chisolm and Marcy spoke simultaneously, then stared at one another in surprise. When Mae began laughing, they grinned, somewhat embarrassed to be echoing one another’s thoughts.

“May I?” she asked him.

“If you must.”

“I must.” She put a sexy infusion into the two words, slowly fanning him with her gaze.

“I like those words.” His voice dropped, his hand slipping down her back. Marcy stared openly as he patted Mae’s ass firmly.

“Marcy.” He turned to the stunned woman. He all but towered over the pair of women; two more polar opposites of the female species couldn’t be imagined. While Marcy was all hard angles and tight lines, Mae was soft and full curvaceousness.

“Yes, Sir?”

She swallowed hard. He was so imposing, even when relaxed, yet Mae seemed totally composed, comfortable around him.

“Mae and I are…” he paused, looking at Mae.

“Fucking like bunnies?”

Mae said, her tone amused. Her head canted to one side, mischief dancing in her eyes, she was loving every second of this. And really….if Marcy’s eyes protruded any further from her head she’d be blind. She was cracking herself up, her response absolutely tickled her funny bone–and she could tell that he was nonplussed by her impromptu candor.


His tone was firm, his mouth set in a straight line. She poked him in the belly.

“Lighten up, boss,” she teased. She turned to Marci.

“We are, in case you really didn’t know,  and now we’re shacking up together besides. How many women get to say they shagged their boss and are moving into his sin-nest with him? Hmmmm?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. Despite running a successful business with some real assholes, no one threw him into speechlessness more often than this sassy-assed slut.

Marcy continued to hold the edge of the desk as if it were the only safe thing in the room. At long last she blinked, shook her head.

“You….you two…”

“Yup,” said Mae, at the same time he said “apparently,” which sent both Mae and Marcy into giggles.

“When you two are done…” he said with studied calmness.

Mae waved a hand at him, her cheeks pinked from laughter.

“Your face…ohgawd…” and she dissolved again.

Really.” He replied, his tone cool. But the corners of his eyes and lips crinkled, and she knew he was more than a little amused.

“Do come see me when you’re,” he paused, lifting one brow haughtily, “slightly less…hysterical. We have a few more things to sort out. Congratulations on your promotion, Marcy. I’ll look forward to working with you. Eventually.”

The two women began to laugh even harder, as he turned and escaped back into his office.


“You were a very naughty girl today.”

“I know. It’s hard to resist tweaking you, you know. Always so upright and proper.”

“I see to recall you enjoying my ‘upright’ status a bit ago.”

She purred, snuggling in closer to him. Her bottom was hot and heavy from earlier, when he’d tied her arms to the bedpost and used all manner of things to ‘whoop her ass for her sass’. The sheet under her butt was damp from the orgasms he had wrung from her before he’d finally exploded himself. Ensconced not only in his arms, his bed, his home, but now a part of his life?  Things didn’t have a happier ending then that. His leg nudged hers apart, his finger finding her slick and wet. Then again….she mused, moaning as that questing digit slid inside, perhaps they did.

~The End~


okay, if you go to the PAGES section under my header you’ll now see Fat listed as a read-in-full story. I just finished editing it AND added a very sexy bonus chapter. 😀


PS link is here




Yes…the slut lives!

I wrote last week that I was down, in a funk…hahaha…little did I know. I got hit by a wicked virus that stole my voice, my energy etc etc. I spent TWO DAYS in bed. Those who know me know that that virtually takes an act of congress…the last time that happened, my son and I were recovering from swine flu. That was forever ago.

Anyway…I’ve finally crawled my ass out of the hole I’ve been swirling in for the last 10 days, and by golly…I’ve been having sexy dreams again.

Maybe because I haven’t had an orgasm in 21 days.


Twenty. One. Days.

Trust me, my pussy is wanting one. But since I still cough every time I lay down? Yeah, I’ve been afraid of starting a cascade effect–orgasm, squirt, cough, fall out of bed, break neck, die.

hahaha. Drama much, nilla?

Anyhoooo…I’m doing okay…working hard on getting better because I have a playdate with M coming up fast, and a visit with a blogfriend soon, and who has time to be sick?

I’m spending my down time today writing. (I know, right?!) So look for something new here soon, as well as on the Dark Fantasies site. And tomorrow…boobs…